Ass Blaster Season
by kovalenko
Summary: my first fan fic so please don be a hater. please R&R.
1. Unexpected contacts

_CRACK CRACK CRACK_! Bert cradled the smoking AK-103 in his arms as he approached the last Screacher of this "seasons" pick an hauled it's half mangled ass back to his truck. "Whooo-ie", he said of the com device attatched to his shoulder, letting Jack know that he had killed yet another of the little bastards and needed Jack to bring the truck around to take the now death stenched creature back to his domain to behead and make into yet another trophy. "Damn you are sure an ugly son-of-a-bitch, now ain'tcha? I'm getting bored of huntin ya down one by one, ya know that? I might just let you mass again, me Flakvierling hasn't fired a round in about 5 years, and the barrels are unusually cold. the sound of Desert Jacks beat up tour truck became an incessant buzzing sound as it rose from the valley into the mountain pass where he had been hunting... along with an odd noise he hadn't heard in a while and couldn't recognize right away... a fwww fww fwwh fwh fwh fwh noise... like a motor spinning up on an air plane. His eyes widened... "Die you Ass blaster, you ain't gonna take me." With that he caught the flying wretch in his sights and let loose the remaining 27 bullets in the bananna clip, causing the fiend to explode. It's carcass' remnants rained down in burning rain as Jack pulled up in his orange truck. He opened the door and fell out due to the fact his seatbelt wasn't fully undone. He got up, attempting to look nonscilaunt by dusting himself off casually and then asked Bert, "What happened here? I thought Screachers were the only things around... since when did an Ass Blaster Morph?" Bert looked worried by the point presented to him and shrugged, "well if they've been around too long they might have dropped their eggs and..."blip.....blip...blip..blip! the Grabboid sensor was going off the wall. There had to be at least 7 directly inbound. Bert and Jack got into their vehicles and immediately fled the scene, Bert launching small cherry bombs out the window in attempts to lure the creatures away... will they make it? Will Bert get laid? I have no idea!!! I haven't decided their fate. Stay tuned!!!(please R&R)


	2. Rounding up the crew

Bert and Jack are fleeing like mad to avoid becoming chow for the newly increased population of Grabboids. blip blip BLIP BLIP BLIP! "Holy Shit!", bert exclaimed as he checked the most recent pings off the sensor. "static Bert to Jack, inbound, I count fifteen, say again FIFTEEN Grabboids inbound." A look of horror and disbelief appeared on Jacks face as he comprehended the message. _If we just lost about 12 and now recently gained 15 from a different direction... that means at least 30 Grabboids are out there...and that means at least... 600 Screachers!!!_ Well, they'd be getting their adrenaline rushing by the time this was over. They both were flooring it to get back to the newly fortified compound to recruit some fighters to repel the incredibly large force presented to them. Along the way, the only sterile Grabboid, _El Blanco_, rose in front of them and attempted to crush Bert with his girth. Luckily Bert swerved in time, cursing the worm. From there on it was calm seas on "boats" moving at roughly 80mph. They thought of the consequences should and when the Grabboids give birth and the army of the 2 legged horrors unleashed their hunger on the population. Bert only hoped that they only got to the Screacher stage because fending off the explosive Ass-Blasters was hell. _They pass through the wrecked fortified gate and assumed the worst, INFESTATION._ There were Screacher carcasses strewn around the courtyard and he looked around to see what had happened."Heeeey, Bert!" a distant voice rang out. Bert looked around to find the person and saw his Ex standing on the roof with an MG42 mounted up there, all around the base of the building was spent brass. "I heard the little bastards break in somehow and I just went to the roof for safety."

Bert looked up in amazement and looked to Jack, muttering, "I never knew she knew how to operate anything more complex than a manicure set..."

later Bert strolled into his parlor, briefing the new recruits from the military Spec Ops dept. on the threat facing them and all about "Perfection 101" (as he called it). He told them how to lure the Screachers into droves and gun them down and told them to seek shelter if things got out of hand and Ass-Blasters emerged. He then armed them accordingly; Bert was armed with his favorite AR the AK-103, Jack was in charge of the Flakvierling that was mounted on the back of his truck while the two women loaded it, PFC. Jenkins (yes it's overused isn't it?) was armed with a S.W.A.T. assault shotgun, Cpl. Miller was toting around the .50 cal sniper rifle that he always used in a combat situation, and last of all, a retired cop by the name of Richard Mills carrying the mafiaesk Thompson with a drum clip that had been in his family for over 70 years. They waited roughly 17 hours before the flyover satellite scans showed hundreds of small tightly grouped contacts moving up on the perimeter. With that, Bert called, "Gentlemen, prepare to defend yourselves. LOCK AND LOAD", and with that he slammed a fresh clip into the AR and racked a round into the chamber.


	3. Ambushed Ambush

_Hundreds of the newly hatched Screachers thundered through the valley towards the giant heat beacon that Bert had set up, consisting of roughly 50 slow burning magnesium flares, generating a heat signal detectable by any infrared scanner within 5 miles_

Bert, Jack and the others waited on a ridge above the cul-de-sac like clearing, waiting for the Screachers to walk into their death trap. Cpl. Miller (who was in charge of the satellite readings) nudged Bert and told him that the motion signal had suddenly vanished. It took a few seconds for the cogs in Bert's head to process the meaning of this and piece it together... _Those sons a bitches are going to flank us!_ He yelled into his Com for everybody to pull out and fall back to any fortified position available. "Every body, FALL BACK! We're being flanked! The little shits are coming from behind and both sides, we have to get out now or we won't get out! Get to the _Flakvierling_. Jack, cover us!"

With that they began sprinting as fast as they could to the relative safety of the _Flakvierling_ to regroup and counter-attack. As they rounded onto the anti-aircraft gun, they saw that Jack had his hands full with a wave of Screachers attempting to knock the gun out. Neither of the women were to be seen so only the worst could be assumed. Cpl. Miller flanked off from the others as they circled the placement, fending off at least 75 of the two legged horrors. Pvt. Jenkins and Richard Mills were blasting away with looks of unbeknownst seriousness on their faces. "HA HA. GET SOME. GET SOME! WHOOOO! GET SOME. HAVE SOME MORE! YA LIKE THAT YOU LITTLE FREAKY MUTHA FUCKER?" Richard Mills had lost all control, the barrel of the gun was only meant for short bursts or maybe sporadic rapid fire, but this free fire with the drum clip was doing murder to the barrel. It soon began to melt, causing Mills to switch to a 9mm sidearm, standard issue for all police. It was indescribably harder, it required damn near a full clip to kill the bastards.

Meanwhile, Cpl. Miller had ascended the tall spike-like ridge and now had freedom to snipe at will. He looked down and saw Richard cut off and surrounded by the Screachers due to his trigger inspired adrenaline rush, and instantly started picking off the ones nearest him. He expended his five round clip in about 2 seconds, swapping the spent clip for a fresh one and resumed guarding Mills.

quite expectedly they were unconsciously causing over 120 decibels of noise that could be picked up by any and all creatures, an the creature that picked it up and homed in on it was none other that _El Blanco._ Mills had his back turned to the _Flakvierling_ to open fire on another Screacher when the ground beneath him shook and he knew that he was a goner. He tossed hi pistol and ammo to the others on the concrete slab that the gun was positioned on just in time. _El Blanco_ rose up beneath him and bit into him half way between hips and shoulders. Mills had no breath to scream with though he felt indescribable pain. _EB_ opened his mandibles one last time and Mills slid out of sight for the last time. Jack was incoheriently screaming his friends name as he rounded the 4-barreled gun onto _EB_, unloading at least 50 rounds into the Grabboid, causing it to explode.

Seeing the Grabboid so easily slaughtered, the Screachers turned tail and fled... to who knows where... Seeing the aggressors retreating, Perfection Squad now had time to mourn the loss of Mills. They gathered around the hole _El Blanco_ came out of, looking down... there was something odd there... something moving... something vaguely manlike... "MILLS!" Shouted Bert, falling onto his chest to lift the grievously wounded man out of the hole. No one could believe it... Mills was alive!!! They bounded his wounds before heading back to the facility.


End file.
